. . . an indecent proposal
‘Another coffee, ma’am?’ the waiter asks.
Upon doing my research, I assumed that this was your typical low-stakes work-friendly café.
It only took showing up to realise that it is actually the table-service-and-scowl-at-your-open-laptop type.
This is perhaps the fifth time the waiter has passive-aggressively circled my table this hour, but, unfortunately, I have commitments that I must stay for.
I shake my head briskly, averting my eyes back to my screen.
‘How about the food menu?’ he asks.
I go to say no again but am startled as I check the time.
‘Yes, two please, actually,’ I reply.
He stares back at me in shock, but hands me two of them nonetheless. I half-heartedly scan over the items before I go back to typing.
‘Amorie?’
I glance up at a man, vaguely timid and hunched over with somewhat greasy hair. As we make eye contact, his thin lips spread to reveal a toothy smile.
‘You look even better in person! How are you?’ he gushes as he sits down. ‘How long you been in Budapest now?’
‘Just a day.’ I smile meekly, closing my laptop.
Timothy slid into my DMs back in Berlin, a couple of days after the first set of articles went out.
If you’re ever in Budapest lmk . . . I’m studying abroad & I’d love to show you a real man.
I immediately ignored it, obviously, but then he commented on every picture I posted alerting me to his message.
Eventually I felt like I had no choice and since we were on our way to Budapest anyway, I figured I may as well up my date numbers.
Although I, of course, had Paige perform a background check first. And I had Noah agree to station himself a few tables away from me on high alert.
I look back over my shoulder and see him three tables back, tucking into a burger as he works away on his laptop.
He steals a glance my way and flashes a reassuring smile.
My breath loosens with the knowledge he’s got my back.
‘And how long are you staying?’ he asks, grabbing one of the menus.
He looks normal enough – thin build, clean clothes, bushy eyebrows and a boyish face that makes sense at twenty-two.
Nothing particularly screams ‘creepy internet stalker who would wear my skin as a suit if given the chance’.
That does not, however, mean that he’s trusted enough to know how long I’ll be in the city.
I shrug politely. ‘Don’t know yet.’
He smiles. ‘You play things so carefree! That’s what I love about you. Or, erm, your column anyway.’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ I brush right past his bold use of the L-word and look over the menu. ‘What looks good to you?’
‘The girl sat opposite me.’ He waits for my reaction to his quip. I let out a somewhat forced laugh in response.
‘I think I’m gonna go for the lángos with cheese,’ I say, after googling an image of lángos on my phone.
‘Looks good. I’ll do the same. So what date is this, then?’
‘Huh?’
‘What number date? You hit the double digits yet? You’re naughty, aren’t you.’ He pauses to lick his lips as he stares me dead in the eye.
‘Sorry, could we not talk about the column?’ I ask. ‘It’s just so hard to be present if it’s lingering on our minds.’
He nods in understanding before calling the waiter over to give our orders. I use the break in conversation to shimmy my laptop back into my bag so I can properly focus on the man across from me.
‘So you said you’re studying abroad, right? What do you study?’ I ask.
‘Business.’ He pauses as the waiter comes over with our two fresh lemonades. ‘So how many dates have you been on this week?’
‘I said no column chat!’ I scold him, attempting to be at least somewhat playful with it.
‘I’m not asking about the column! I’m asking about your date history!’ He smiles smugly at his loophole. ‘I’ve been on three.’
‘This week? It’s Wednesday.’ I grab my glass.
‘Left a girl in my bed this morning to come here,’ he continues.
I choke on my drink. Droplets fly across the table as I cough and splutter while he watches on plainly and waits for me to finish.
‘Sorry.’ My voice is raspy as I reach for a gulp of my tap water. ‘Did you just say you left a girl in your bed this morning?’
‘Yep!’ He declares this with unabashed pride. ‘See, this is what I like about you – you’re dating around just like the rest of us. I can talk to you like one of the guys.’
He lifts his phone and snaps a picture of me, the flash catching me by surprise. He doesn’t notice my shock as he’s too busy staring at the picture, satisfied.
‘My friends are gonna die when they see this. They’ll be so jealous that I’m out with the eighty-dates girl.’
I don’t have it in me to respond – I’m still startled by the candour of his words and actions.
Luckily, the waiter slides in with our plates and he’s briefly distracted by the glorious plates of cheese-laden fried bread in front of us.
I watch him cut the biggest possible slice he can and practically unhinge his jaw to shovel it in.
‘I have a question,’ he says in between open-mouth chews.
I nod, stunned as I grab my own knife and fork.
‘How far do you go with all of your dates? We talking second base? Third? Or all home runs?’
I can’t help but snort at the audacity. ‘That’s a tad personal, don’t you think?’
He scoffs. ‘I mean, you’re putting it all online, aren’t you? You clearly don’t care about keeping things personal.’ He vigorously chews another chunk of bread, immediately washing it down with a loud sloppy slurp of his lemonade.
‘And I read your Berlin story – I know you’re not a saint.’ He winks.
‘Wow,’ I say.
He smiles back at me, seemingly reading my outright disgust as banter. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you. In fact, I was hoping we’d recreate it after lunch.’
He’s sneering at me now, all thirty-two of his teeth on show as he revels in his statement. He cannot be a real person. These cannot be real words. Where would he even put the girl that’s currently waiting in his bed?
No free meal is worth this.
I start to drown his words out as he continues to blabber on about something or other and I hasten a glance behind me to check that Noah is still at his table.
Slowly but surely, I reach my hand to my face and oh-so-subtly itch my nose.
I feel no movement. Is he watching? Did he see me? Does he even remember our Bat-Signal?
‘Mind if we take a selfie?’ Timothy asks, already raising his phone. ‘The boys think I’m lying about bagging you.’
With his eyes so glued to his phone I make a second, less subtle attempt. I lift my hand again and itch my nose aggressively like it’s full of fleas. Timothy’s none the wiser, thankfully. Too obsessed with his boys. I just hope that it’s enough to alert my own boy to this dire situation.
‘Amorie!’ A fresh voice sounds.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, instantly deflating all the tension that I stored. Both Timothy and I turn to stare at Noah as he stands nervously behind me. His eyes lock with mine instantly.
‘I’m so glad I found you!’ He declares this emphatically.
He grabs my hand and pulls me from my seat into a sweeping, dramatic hug. As he holds me, my breath hitches. We’ve hugged before – many times – it’s all we’re allowed to do, but we’ve never before hugged like this . . . Not pulled as tight as we can, head tucked perfectly in the crook of his neck.
He traces light patterns over the cotton of my dress and takes a deep, intentional breath, openly taking in my scent before sighing with satisfaction and finally loosening his arms. He keeps hold of me even as he pulls away, squeezing kindly as he looks at me with adoration.
My stomach flips in on itself the longer he stares, distracted only by the other pair of eyes boring into both of us.
‘Who are you?’ Timothy asks.
It’s the first time Noah has pulled his gaze from mine in minutes, and it forces me back to reality – to the café. I feel my body wash through with embarrassment.
‘Sorry, I’m Noah. I was dating Am-Am back home.’ He reaches across to shake a confused Timothy’s hand.
Noah’s eyes twinkle as he looks back at me. It’s not his usual twinkle – his playful, challenging twinkle. It’s deeper. Stronger. I get lost in it.
‘I hated how things ended just before you left. I came to find you,’ he continues, prompting me to act with him. ‘I know I said I wasn’t ready to commit, but I was wrong. Life without you, Am – it’s just not worth living.’
His eyes soften further, giving the kind of gaze that makes me want to melt, but I can’t while he’s staring at me. It’s too much for our friendship to handle. I quickly glance down at the floor, breaking his spell, and take a deep breath before locking into the lie.
‘Really?’ I ask breathlessly.
I clutch my hand to my chest, attempting to sell the story even further, but it comes across more soap-opera than Emmy-winning drama.
Noah’s facade drops for a millisecond, ready to laugh at my shoddy acting, before quickly snapping back into place.
It’s a stark reminder that this is just that – a role he’s playing.
‘Yes, really.’ He takes my awkwardly placed hand in his. ‘You only get this kind of love once in a lifetime and I was a fool to throw that away.’ He strokes my palm with his thumb as he looks deep into my eyes. ‘Say it’s not too late?’
It’s my turn to speak. He cues me silently, but my mouth has gone dry.
‘It’s . . . it’s . . .’ I choke on my words.
It’s shaky at best and embarrassingly breathless at worst. He pushes on nonetheless, gripping my hand tighter.
‘I know this is a lot, but I can’t let you slip away again,’ he says gravely.
I feel my cheeks grow hot as he continues to stare, so I hasten a quick look around in the hope of breaking the tension. It’s no use. Every pair of eyes in the building looks our way.
‘I’m ready to make this right, Am.’ Noah is shining under the spotlight. ‘Ready to do what I should have done that night before you left.’
I take a deep breath, part intrigued, mostly scared as I see a devilish grin creep out from underneath his act. He releases my hand at the gesture, dropping to one knee. The room gasps. My heart jumps.
‘Amorie . . .’
I mutter under my breath, ‘Don’t you dare.’
There’s no acting involved. My heart starts beating so fast that I’m worried it may actually burst through my ribcage. But Noah presses on, not breaking character even for a second.
‘I should have done this the first time I let you slip away. It won’t happen again,’ he says.
He fishes in his pocket before bringing out a large, glistening and very real ring. I lean closer in disbelief as he holds it proudly in front of me, allowing me to study it in utter shock. It’s stunning – a pristine gold band and marquise-cut gem, surrounded by a cascade of smaller green stones.
‘Are those diamonds?’ I whisper at him in shock.
He raises a proud eyebrow and nods. ‘Lab grown.’ He clears his throat before raising his voice yet again. ‘What do you say, shnookums? Do we give this a proper go, for eternity?’
The people around us swoon, but I barely hear a thing. I take the ring in again and feel my insides start to churn. It looks so real and official . . . This all feels too real and official.
‘Say yes!’ a yell sounds somewhere in the distance.
My eyes dart round once more, take in the shocked waiters, the hooked watchers and the stunned face of Timothy.
Then, finally, I look to Noah, down on his knee with a smile that could stop my heart right on this spot.
I have to look away. I drop my eyes back to his hand and the most beautiful ring I have ever seen in my life.
‘Don’t leave him hanging!’
‘Say something!’
The hecklers continue. I watch as Noah struggles to stifle his laughter, before raising the ring even higher.
‘Well, sweetie, what will it be?’ he asks.
That’s when I catch it – his all-too-familiar smirk. This is a game to him. This should be a game to me. Noah is a friend who’s helping me in my hour of need. I shut my eyes, take a gulp, and remember who and where I am.
‘Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!’ I say.
The spectators break into raucous applause, a bottle pops and, before I know it, there’s a champagne glass in my hand and a ring on my finger. Noah rises from the floor, still clearly committed to his character, and whisks me into a sweepingly heartfelt hug.
‘Kiss!’ the crowd starts to chant, over and over again.
Noah brings his mouth to my ear and chuckles softly, sending a tingle directly down my spine. ‘What do you think, Am? Break the rules just this once to keep the crowd happy?’
His lip graces my earlobe as he says it and with that contact, every single rule flies straight out of my head. I can’t focus on anything but the strong arms around my frame and the deep voice in my ear.
‘Go on, then.’
His hand slips down my back, sweeping me off my feet and into a dramatic dip. I feel my glass of bubbles spill over onto my wrist, but I have no time to address that before his lips crash into mine.
The room swells into cheers right in time with his tongue as it slips through my teeth and grazes my own.
He moves tenderly, pressing our bodies as close as they will go, lips moving softly but firmly on mine.
He knocks the wind from my lungs with each motion, coaxing me with every slide of his lips and flick of his tongue.
I move my hand to his hair, gripping his curls as the room grows still and nothing exists but Noah and me.
Then it all stops. He pulls back, brings me up to my feet and grabs a napkin to dab at my champagne-soaked wrist. Some people are still clapping and cooing, but most have already grown bored, retiring to their meals and their old conversation.
I blink myself back to life and focus on Noah’s hand as it dabs at the droplets on my wrist. He meets my eyes and winks, before turning to Timothy who is sitting gobsmacked in his seat.
‘Sorry to hijack your lunch.’ Noah is relishing in the moment, but trying to keep it cool with a shrug. ‘It’s just when you know, you know. You get me, right? And I wasn’t gonna let her go twice.’
Timothy doesn’t speak – he barely moves – just bites his tongue and nods back at Noah wordlessly. A small part of me feels a little bad for him . . . But a bigger part is relieved that he’s finally stopped talking.
I feel Noah grab my hand and squeeze it twice over, a silent ask that we leave this place once and for all. So I slap on a smile and say goodbye to Timothy one last and final time.